I'm not ready.
We can't already be plodding towards Spring.
I need another month of partial-hibernation; I am not prepared to emerge.
It is intensely physical: I feel the top of my head pulling towards my belly-button, and the rest of me following that curve inward. In my mind's eye, I look like one of those small brown bugs that curl into a tight ball then roll away. Their message is clear: "Go away. Nobody's home."
Of course, I am home. I am just not ready to receive visitors, to interact more than only a little bit with the outside world. Family and dear friends---okay. But that's all.
Funny...I remember Colette, z'l, saying when I first came to her classes behind the blue gate, "You are actually an introvert." I had already decided to suspend judgement for three months and just see what was really so about her and her work; so I let that remark hang there. It took some years for me to realize how very right she was. Not that I do not enjoy the company of others; I do. But I need chunks of time daily to reflect upon the events, outer and inner, of each day. Otherwise, it feels like I am failing to unwrap and appreciate the gifts of the day before the flow of Time and forgetfulness carries them off.
Looking back, I see that my beloved, even as he embodied the extraverted Leo, the sun-king shining his warmth out into the world, required the time he spent daily, starting first thing in the morning, in deep davvenen. It was that time spent with only himself and the Ribono shel Olam that fueled his great capacity to shine that warmth and wisdom outward into the world, and that gave him access to wisdom beyond his own.
I am hoping that this year's cleaning for Pesach will remove excess, outdated resentments, perhaps even unwarranted self-blame. (Although it is hard for me to see any self-blame as unwarranted; that IS the problem, isn't it.) Especially, I hope to "broom out with a blue broom" , as Colette would have said, all that distracts me from doing the work in the world that is uniquely my own to do.
Now I am going upstairs to prepare for bed, then take out my blank journal and fountain pen and see what emerges.
I'm not ready.